


just one night

by Zofiecfield



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, bold Dani, hot mess Jamie, no ghosts to mess this up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28658103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: When the furnace at Bly Manor dies on the coldest day of the year, Jamie invites Dani to her flat for the night.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 48
Kudos: 325





	just one night

The manor’s ancient furnace had, with a shudder and a groan, decided to take a holiday on the coldest day of the year. It bade them farewell with a bang at six in the morning, and by two o’clock, the edges of the house had sunk to a wary chill. 

Fires were lit, of course, and maintained all day by Jamie, but to no avail. The chill crept deeper and no number of sweaters would suffice.

The furnace repair man would come the next day to work his magic and eek another winter out of the old beast, but for the night, they would need to relocate. 

Henry came for the children. Rather begrudgingly, yes, but he brightened as Flora slipped her hand into his and began listing all the things she thought might be splendid to do on their night in London. 

Hannah was bundled off to Owen’s, on his insistence and assurance it was no bother. _A pleasure,_ he kept saying. _My absolute pleasure._ He rested a hand lightly on Hannah’s back as they made their way across the ice to his car, and Hannah leaned, just a bit, into the touch. 

That just left Dani.

And Jamie’s reckless mouth.

“And you’ll come home with me, yeah?” Jamie had said earlier that afternoon, as all the plans were sorted out over toast and hot chocolate. 

She had said it without any thought, just let her mouth run off wild. And once it was loose, there was no going back.

Dani shook her head, mouth busy with toast, hands already waving off the offer.

“No,” she said, as soon as she was able. “I can just get a room in Bly somewhere. Or maybe I should stay here, to mind the house while you’re all gone?”

“Dani,” Jamie, Owen, and Hannah chided in unison, tugging a little smile to her lips.

“You’ll come with me,” Jamie said again, and there was no room left for debate. It was settled.

Well, the arrangements were settled.

Jamie’s gut, on the other hand, was notably not. As soon as she said the words, as soon as Dani met her eyes over the rim of her mug, _settled_ flew out the window.

See, the issue was this: Jamie had fallen, quite spectacularly, head over heels for Dani. 

It was an accident. Jamie was well-schooled in the ways of beautiful women, and knew, without a doubt, how to guard herself from growing attached when morning comes. She considered herself an expert on the subject, really. 

But she had found herself woefully unprepared for Dani Clayton, who had shown up mid-summer to wrangle the children, and mind the classroom, and make Jamie’s life extremely and unexpectedly complicated.

Days passed in Dani’s presence. Dani, in the halls, laughing with the kids. Dani, out in the gardens, fingertips absentmindedly stroking across the flowers, _Jamie’s_ flowers. Dani, with flashes of fear and sorrow in her eyes for a moment here, a flinch in the mirror there, pushing past it each time to carry on.

Dani, clever and kind and bright and strong and so fucking beautiful.

Days passed, and each night, Jamie went home and laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Each night, her mind drifted back to the manor, to Dani and her smile, to Dani and her laugh, to Dani and the soft brush of finger across petal. And occasionally, if she wasn’t careful, to Dani and her bed, to Dani with her shoulders bare in summer and hung in sweaters as the weather grew cold. Wool over skin that Jamie could sink her teeth into, given the chance.

And each morning, it was all still there. Under the influence of Dani, the night had lost its ability to erase the tug of the gut or the stutter of a heart. Each morning, Jamie woke and was still falling hard. Still, so _fucking_ attached.

They had become friends, as time went on. Easy chat over wine in the evenings with Hannah and Owen for supervision, content hours in sunlight with the kids in the garden. 

But the other times, the ones when they happened upon each other without watchful eyes, without a barrier to hold Jamie’s gut at bay. Those were the times that had done her in. The long moments of eye contact. The brief touches over a dish or door knob. The brush of a hand in passing to set Jamie on fire for hours to come. 

And the moments of understanding – grief recognizing grief, sorrow and healing mirrored back in steady gaze for a second before one or the other broke and looked away. They had talked little of it, of that kinship, but it ran under the surface in the quiet moments and it grew alongside them.

A thousand moments of a hundred types. But they had gone no further. 

There was a hesitation in Dani still, one Jamie could guess at but could not name with confidence. Wounds that were still healing, deep under the skin, skittish glances over shoulders and a jump at soft touch. 

And, Jamie supposed, in fairness, she had her hesitations too. 

All the others had been seen off by dinnertime, leaving no choice but to slide into the driver’s seat of the Rover and breathe a slow and steady set as Dani climbed in beside her. 

Her little flat was, she thought, as they drove, as they the climbed the stairs, as the chance of turning back dwindled to nothing, about the worse possible place to spend a night alone with Dani. 

Nothing held against the flat itself. It had served Jamie well these past few years. 

One room. Little kitchenette, raggedy couch, plants on every available surface. Mattress in one corner, lifted up on recycled wood pallets, because that was all she’d had at first, and later, when means would have allowed more, kept because she’d grown quite fond. 

A good spot, really. Home and hers, more than any other place had been, aside from the garden (and Hannah frowned upon her sleeping in the greenhouse, though she did it anyway, on the best summer nights).

No, the issue was not the flat itself. The issue was the _proximity_.

The issue was Dani, close enough behind her in the entryway to feel breath on the back of her neck, the gentle sway of baby hairs warning of an impending heart malfunction. 

The issue was Dani, close enough to touch as she laughed and refused to take the bed, as she insisted on the couch, claiming it as her own with the little duffle she’d carried in.

The issue was turning around in the kitchen to find Dani so _fucking_ close, spoon ready in offering or a pinch of salt cradled in one palm. 

Cooking dinner was heaven and torture in relentless tango. 

Eggs and potatoes and the tin of tomatoes that had grown lonely in the cupboard. 

Dani at her elbow, Dani taking dirty dishes from her hands, Dani brushing past her shoulder as she went. 

Dani speaking softly, because the words were for Jamie’s ears and for no one else’s, because this single room didn't swallow volume like the manor and its sprawling arches. 

Quiet and casual words, barely more than breath, and Jamie was Losing Her Mind.

_Jesus._

Just at the point when Jamie thought she could take no more, just as she was considering fleeing to the fire escape for a smoke or to the bathroom to douse her face in cold water until her brain stopped scrambling like the eggs in the pan. 

Just then, Dani’s hand slid onto Jamie’s hip.

Jamie’s heart stopped, just stuttered to a halt and gave up for a bit. 

Fuck it, who needs a heart when her whole body was beating out a happy tune of Dani’s palm, warm against her through thin cotton.

“Do you want some pepper?” Dani asked.

 _Funny_ , Jamie thought, distantly. 

Funny that Dani could ask a question when language had ceased to carry any meaning. Funny to bother with words when all that could possibly matter now was the little weight of Dani against her. 

Jamie almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

“What?” she managed, and only barely.

Dani brandished the pepper grinder with the other hand. “Jamie? Do you want pepper on the eggs? They look almost done.”

Jamie’s gaze drifted down to the pan in front of her. _Oh, yes. Eggs._

She hummed something Dani took for consent, and then the palm was gone. 

The cost of pepper had been too steep, she thought, in some disjointed way as she fought to recover. Far too steep.

It was going to be a long night.

In the absence of a table, they ate on the couch. (There was a small drafting table in one corner, but it had long since been lost to an enthusiastic crew of succulents and an unruly collection of gardening books.)

Dani, cross-legged, leaning back against the armrest with her plate balanced on one knee, looked more at ease than Jamie had ever seen her. 

In the mercy of a familiar task, they fell into the comfortable rhythm of the many meals they had shared at the manor. Jamie regaled Dani with stories of Owen’s kitchen mishaps from before Dani’s time, and together they speculated on Owen and Hannah’s night in teasing fondness.

All good, all easy, all plenty safe. 

The eggs were eaten and the potatoes, forgotten on the stove, salvaged somewhat. 

Tea was brewed and sipped slowly with a box of chocolate biscuits Jamie had procured last Christmas, which were pleasantly stale and enough to occupy the moments.

Before long it was late and well past bedtime. And Jamie, who had, until that moment, blissfully forgotten how much trouble she was in, remembered with a solid thud.

Dani, in her pajamas of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, leaning against the bathroom doorframe. Dani, shrugging sheepishly as Jamie stared, explaining that she had tired of nightgowns, which tangled as she slept, and had yet to procure a suitable pair of flannel pants. 

Good to know, but not at all what Jamie had been thinking…

Jamie meant to say something helpful like, “It's cold. Do you need to borrow a pair of pants?” But the words balanced on her lips were something else, something well on the other side of this delicate line, so she settled on some sort of strangled noise and bustled away for the spare set of sheets and a pillow. 

Dani insisted on helping make up the couch. Polite to a fault, Dani. Seemingly oblivious as Jamie’s skin rebelled against her, every bit of it on fire. 

Goodnights were said at a safe distance, hands raised to send one another into the darkness. 

Lights turned off. 

The rustle of blankets and settling of bodies.

And then Dani slept, her breath growing even within minutes, soft from across the room.

_That’s nice_ , Jamie thought. Nice, that Dani felt so comfortable in this space. Nice, that Dani was at ease here. Nice, that Dani could rest, just there, just half a room away.

Jamie laid back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

It had been a nice evening, passed between friends. 

_Nice_. In all of the stunted glory of the word, in all of the muted potential of an adjective like that. 

She sighed a little and closed her eyes. 

Now just the vast expanse of night to contend with…

_Dear reader,_

_Please forgive Jamie her nearsightedness._

_It is easy, when tumbling down a hill at a dizzying pace, to miss the fact that you are not, in fact, alone. As the world spins and your stomach churns in that half pleasant, half sickening way, you too might easily overlook the body next to you, tumbling along at a matched pace, stomach churning, dizzy. You too might miss the shortness of breath that accompanies a brave palm, the flush of a cheek, or the bumble of words from a nervous tongue. You might miss the hope painted across that skin, the growing resolve, the decisions being made behind those eyes._

_You too might not question the slow breath from across the room. You might believe (to save yourself from the heft of hope and disappointment), that you’re the only one lying awake in that peculiar agony of wanting someone who is not, in any way, not yet, yours._

_Hang tight._

_xo,_

_Z_

Jamie couldn’t sleep. 

No stranger to insomnia over the years, she had trained herself to shut down at night. Lights out, eyes closed, done deal. 

It worked most nights, save for the few where something nagged her, despite the depth of the dark around her. Something just behind the eye, reverberating through the mattress springs, mucking about in her peace and quiet. 

Tonight was one of those nights. 

_The faucet,_ she told herself, by way of explanation. _That faucet in the kitchen will need fixing. Pipes will probably have frozen by tomorrow and there will be a mess to manage in the morning before Owen gets back._

But she knew plenty well it was not the leaky kitchen faucet, nor the spring bulbs frozen in the ground, nor bills that were coming due, nor, nor, nor.

_Shit._

Jamie flopped onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, letting out a quiet groan of frustration. 

She had made it all summer, had seen fall come and go. 

Each day passing in the glow of Dani Clayton, who was not hers, who could not be hers. 

Not yet, anyway. Not until Dani was ready. Not until Dani was sure. 

Dani was as strong as they come, but broken hearts don’t heal well when your back is still hunched in fear, still carrying the weight of it. Doesn’t give them room to breathe, no fresh air to remind them of lightness. Dani had to be sure, had to be ready, had to be healed enough for something new to catch and hold.

And, anyway, Jamie knew to be wary. Hearts can get fucked up so easily. And hers, already tripping itself silly like this, was just primed and ready for a serious fuck-up. And that was not to be taken lightly.

Jamie flipped back onto her back and raked her fingers through curls, rough enough to drag her thoughts tidy again, for a moment. 

She had made it all summer and all fall. She would make it all winter too. She would make it as long as it took for Dani to be sure. Forever, if that time never came. She’d make it forever if she had to.

She could surely make it one night. One night of Dani breathing softly across the room.

Surely. One night.

And then, the floorboard creaked.

Jamie’s heart stopped and some sunken part of her prepared for waking, prepared for the dream that would come in a rush and end with a thud like it always did. 

Again, the groan of wood under cautious foot.

Jamie pinched herself, hard enough to leave the curve of nails in her thigh. 

Another creak, nearly to her now.

Jamie sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Dani stood, not two paces away. 

Dani who had, at some point, tugged on one of Jamie’s sweaters, worn thin to patches in places and falling down her thighs. 

Jamie’s breath caught in her chest.

Too dark to see Dani’s face, just light enough to watch the hand brush hair from her eyes, the ebb and flow of ribs under wool, the final decision on the scales. 

Jamie froze, not daring to move, perhaps no longer even capable of movement.

A car passed in an arch of headlights, illuminating Dani’s face for a fraction of a second. 

Determined. 

Dani’s face was determined. The set of the jaw, lips in a tight line. 

Determined.

Somehow this was a hundred times more attractive than any other face Jamie could have imagined in a hundred daydreams and a hundred nights. 

Just flat out determined, eyes pinned to Jamie’s. The little furrow on the dip of the brow, waiting.

Jamie lifted a hand in offering, a palm outstretched. 

And with that, the Dani’s face shifted, the decision made, the matter well and truly settled.

Dani slid into Jamie’s lap, knees bracketing her hips, one palm foregoing the gentle cup of jaw in favor of the tangle of curls, the base of the skull, the tug into depth and tongue on teeth and tongue on tongue.

The other palm planted itself firm just left of center on Jamie’s chest, not to hold either of them at bay, but as one final check. Jamie, it seemed, was not the only one who had dreamt of this, who had woken disappointed too many times. 

Satisfied by the thud and the breath under skin, the hand set off adventuring, thumb smoothing under the curve of a breast, fingertips roaming across ribs and finding home on the softness of stomach and the crease of the thigh.

Dani held back nothing, and Jamie met her there, matching her, step for step. White knuckled across hips, hanging on for dear life.

The hand continued on its journey, emboldened by its own daring in a dizzying cycle that rapidly had Jamie struggling to maintain any semblance of conscious thought.

As gravity pulled them down, Jamie flipped them, pinning Dani beneath her. 

Dani, panting out little breaths, face flushed and hands still roving across skin, wild and free.

Even as she lay there, even as she stilled beneath Jamie’s gentle weight, hands bound above her head, Dani was bold. 

Thumbs, drawing slow circles into Jamie’s palms, taunting or soothing their captors, or, somehow, both. One foot, running a distracting path along Jamie’s calf. The subtle rock of pelvis against restraint.

“Are you sure?” Jamie asked, eyes locked on Dani's, trying desperately to keep her head clear. 

Half of her searching for any signs that Dani might, in fact, not be sure. The other half tipping backwards through the night to find the flush and the stutter and catch of breath she had missed in her own flurry.

All of her singing a little song of _thank fuck_ as Dani nodded, as a little smile began in the corner of Dani’s mouth, slipping its way across her lips to bloom into a grin. 

Then the grin was Jamie’s too, no more space left between one pair of lips and the next. 

The phone woke them harshly at ten o'clock in the morning.

Jamie, entirely disoriented flung herself from bed, only beginning to comprehend the arm that slid from her waist as she did so. She stumbled to the phone, tugging a shirt over her head in the process, to fight against the morning chill.

The call was from Owen, who chuckled at her gruff greeting and teased a bit about why she might only be waking now, hours past sunrise. 

She growled and he relented, delivering the news: the furnace would not be repaired until late this evening, so no one would return to the manor until the following day. Henry had, enjoying the time with the kids more than he had imagined, granted them all a day off. 

Jamie barely managed to utter a coherent goodbye as she hung up, her mind already skipping ahead. 

She turned and found Dani padding towards the kitchen in stocking feet and the threadbare sweater that could be hers now, if she wanted it, if Jamie could wake every morning to see her in it.

“Morning,” Dani said, stopping just far enough away to leave the space crackling between them.

The used edge to her voice made Jamie’s mouth go dry, the back of her neck warming pleasantly with memories of Dani’s voice scraping itself off the ceiling under Jamie’s tongue.

“That was Owen,” Jamie managed. “Furnace won’t be fixed ‘til late. Henry’s keeping the kids another night, and he’s given us the day off.” 

She did her best, as she said it, to keep her tone light, free of expectation, free of the delightful path her heart was already tumbling down. She did her best to put no weight on the moment, to ask nothing of Dani, just in case, just in case she had not been sure.

The effort was appreciated, but entirely deemed irrelevant, as Dani was already backing her against the kitchen counter, pressing light kisses to her jaw.

“Great,” Dani murmured against the skin, sending shivers up Jamie's spine. 

Dani's fingertips slid up Jamie’s thighs, catching the edge of the shirt, as Jamie’s head hummed a happy tune of Dani Clayton. So fucking, wonderfully, unexpectedly bold. 

“You make tea,” Dani continued, as she worked her way down Jamie’s neck, “and I’ll make toast, and then – ”

Jamie’s knees almost gave out under Dani’s splayed palms, under the slide of Dani’s thigh between hers as Dani nipped at her collar bone and whispered, “ – we’ll see where the day takes us.”

(Toast and tea make a good late lunch, or so I hear.)


End file.
